Broken China & Proposals
by MischiefManaged007
Summary: "Are you insane?" He smiles in what he hopes is a charming way, "Only from loving you."' As Ron Weasley is about to find out, proposing can be a very messy business.


**_Okay, one more attempting at uploading this as people have been having trouble finding this - hopefully there's no error messages for this one!_**

**_Yes, this another 'Ron and Hermione get engaged' story. I know there are countless versions of this but I just couldn't help myself! This was inspired by my fic 'Things That Should Be Said' which was inspired by my other fic 'Bad Timing.' You certainly don't have to read those for this to make sense but just thought I would let you all know :)_**

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_**Broken China and Proposals**_

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"Wingardium Leviosa," Ron mutters, lazily flicking his wand at the pile of dirty dishes in front of him. He attempts to levitate the stack to the sink, walking behind the floating dishes slowly, eyes focused on the Evening Prophet clutched in his hand.

Just as he attempts to turn to page six, the latest report on the Quidditch league, he spots a flash of ginger hurtling across his path.

It's too late to stop.

His foot connects with the cat; Ron trips forward, the newspaper falling from his hand, trapping the cat who begins hissing angrily. He makes one desperate reach toward his wand, wishing with all his might that he had the ability of a seeker.

It's just out of his reach.

He watches it fall and clatter as it hits the floor, red sparks jetting from it.

"Shit," Ron manages to curse before the stack falls to the ground; the crashing sound of breaking china heard before the plates smash into hundreds of little pieces.

Crookshanks has managed to free himself from the newspaper and he sits inches away from Ron's face, staring smugly at him.

Ron looks from the cat to the broken plates to the rest of the mess in the flat to the clock and then back to the cat.

"You," he breathes at Crookshanks. "You did this on purpose but guess what? Hermione isn't home to protect you. It's just you and me." Ron lunges forward, attempting to fling his arms around the cat who hurriedly streaks away from his reach.

"You're not getting away that easily!" He yells, pulling himself to his feet and sprinting after the cat, following the bushy tail. Crookshanks skitters through the open door leading to the laundry, wedging himself into a tiny nook out of Ron's reach, looking rather pleased with himself.

Ron grins before exiting the room and calls out, "Hope you're comfortable!" before slamming the door and trapping the cat in.

He starts to laugh but abruptly stops as he is confronted by debris of the man versus cat battle.

The plates still lie broken on the ground, the god-awful lamp that Hermione's aunt had given them had been knocked over and the kitchen sink looked like a Weasley Wheezes testing zone.

"Shit." He glances at the clock. Five forty five. He had fifteen minutes before Hermione was home. The panic subsides; he has time.

Ron rummages through the newspaper on the ground, eventually finding and picking up the Quidditch report. He sits cross-legged on the kitchen floor, absent-mindedly nibbling on a piece of toast from one of the broken plates.

A scratching noise rings across the flat. Ron pauses, looking up from his paper but quickly figures it is just Crookshanks trying to claw his way out. He chuckles at thought of the stupid thing struggling and resumes reading.

Suddenly, a door slams.

Keys jangle and footsteps echo down the hallway. "Hi. My office finished early today to go for some drinks to celebrate Susan's last day. Can you believe that in a few days her and Ernie will be parents? I remember when –" she stops in her tracks as she takes in her surroundings. Hermione's eyes widen.

"Hi," Ron smiles weakly.

There's an awkward silence. Crookshanks chooses this unfortunate moment to let out a loud and angry meow and scratches at the door. Hermione stomps over to the laundry and yanks the door open, Crookshanks sprints out, spitting angrily at Ron.

"So… How was your day?"

"Obviously nothing compared to yours. Tell me, Ron, tell me, how on earth do you find the time to both make a ridiculous amount of mess _and_ traumatise my cat? I really don't know how you do it."

"That cat traumatised _me_! He made this mess!"

"Oh honestly, Ron." Hermione exclaims, pausing to scratch Crookshanks behind the ears. "You blame anything you can on him but I know this was all _you_." She punctuates the word by poking him in the chest with her finger. "George owled me to say you took half the day off so I know you have been home since lunchtime. And me? I've only been at work since seven o'clock, working hard and you don't even take the time to tidy the place before I come home!"

"I was going to get around to it but you came home early." Ron retorts defensively.

"This," Hermione waves her arms around, "would have taken much longer than ten minutes to clean up _and_ it's your turn to cook tonight, which I notice you haven't managed to 'get around' to either!"

"You know it's been crazy at the shop this week. I just needed some time to relax. Look, I'll make dinner soon, okay?"

"No, Ron," Hermione sighs as she waves her wand, repairing the plates and sending them back to the cupboard. "It's not okay. You're killing yourself at a job that you don't particularly enjoy and one that you can't see a future in! The aurors have owled you three times and you're not getting any younger!"

Ron can feel a huge argument brewing. "Okay," he tries to begin calmly. "You think that I should just _abandon_ my brother who has lost not only his business partner but his twin and best mate? No, Hermione. I'm not doing it."

She picks up three stray plate on from the couch. "Oh, for heaven's sake you are not abandoning him. You both agreed it would be a temporary arrangement and now look, six years down the track and nothing has changed! Don't you want to do something with your life?"

"So, according to you I'm not doing anything with it?"

She rolls her eyes, "Yes, that's exactly what I said. Oh come on, Ron! I know you've been working hard but you're not exactly straining yourself or reaching the potential I know you have. You could at least help out a bit more around here!"

"Don't tell me what to do! Like you care what I do with my life anyway."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me, you don't care. Look, we both know you're the star out of the two of us so why don't we just –"

"I DO CARE, RON! AND YOU SHOULD CARE TOO, YOU SODDING IDIOT!"

"Do you now? And am I mistaken or, DID YOU JUST TELL ME WHAT TO DO AGAIN?"

She drops the piece of toast she had just retrieved from underneath the couch. "I DO CARE! THAT'S WHY I TELL YOU WHAT TO DO! I CARE MORE THAN YOU DO!"

They stare at each other. Her hair is all over the place, her cheeks tinged pink and she's somehow managed to lose one of her shoes. He's inexplicably reminded of their Hogwarts days where she was always there to keep him in check.

"ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME? OR DO YOU NOT CARE ENOUGH TO EVEN REPLY TO ME?" Hermione bellows, dropping the plates she's holding.

Ron yells over the sound of the breaking china, "DON'T WORRY, YOU'RE PRETTY HARD TO IGNORE!"

"WELL SOMEONE HAS TO GET THROUGH THAT THICK HEAD!"

"SO YOU CAN PRETEND TO CARE?"

She curls her fists up into little balls and raises them above her head, seemingly clutching at invisible crystal balls. "WE HAVE BEEN OVER THIS, I DO CARE!"

"OH, YOU DO?"

"YEAH, I DO!"

"Well," he pauses. He knows he shouldn't, not now, but maybe he should just say it anyway. Or perhaps not.

"WELL WHAT?"

Yeah, he definitely shouldn't say it. He better calm things down before it just - "BLOODY MARRY ME THEN!" – slipped out.

"DON'T YOU SCREAM AT ME YOU – YOU… I…." she trails off. "What did you just say?"

Ron snaps back to his senses. He said it; he has to follow through now. He rummages in his pocket for the little blue box. He takes it out and extends the hand holding it to her. "Marry me?" He shrugs, half raising his arms.

Hermione snatches the box from his outstretched hand and opens it, examining the ring. She looks up at him, mouth in a perfect 'O'. Ron is surprised, he couldn't believe he had actually gotten away with it until – "Are you _insane_?"

He smiles in what he hopes is a charming way, "Only from loving you."

Her eyes widen again and the shouting starts once more. "YOU ASKED ME TO MARRY YOU IN THE MIDDLE OF A FIGHT!"

"Look, I was talking to George and he told me that –"

"You got this sort of advice from George Weasley? The man whose idea of flirting was telling Angelina that her hair was the same shade of brown as unicorn dung?"

Ron laughs, "Yeah, that was pretty stupid… No! Will you let me finish?"

"Why would I listen to an insane person?"

"Look, just hear me out before you commit me, okay?"

Hermione sighs and sinks to the ground, resuming Ron's earlier action of sitting on the kitchen floor, cross-legged. She waves her hand, inviting Ron to do his best.

Ron begins to pace around her, trying to think of how to articulate his thoughts in a way that doesn't result in more yelling.

"Okay… So, I've had the ring for ages. Probably about a month or so. I just… I didn't – couldn't – think of how to do it. Anything I came up with seemed stupid and nowhere near good enough for you."

Hermione moans, "Ron, we have be over this…"

"I know, I know and it's basically what George told me. He pretty much said that you've put up with my shit for long enough now that I must be more than just a charity case and that things must be pretty serious. He told me that I just have to say it and it doesn't matter how or when but… well, I'll admit that perhaps my timing was a maybe not exactly on the mark tonight, but I just couldn't keep it in any longer."

She rolls her eyes. "Obviously. Go on then."

Ron stops pacing and takes a deep breath, "How long have I known you?"

"Probably about… thirteen years?" She questions, slightly taken off guard.

"So, say we go with that number -"

"Is this a mathematics lesson?"

"A what?"

Again with the eye rolling, "Never mind."

"Anyway, if we stick with the number thirteen, it works out like this: you've been my friend for about twelve and a half years, my supposedly 'secret' fancy for around eleven years and I've been proud to call you my girlfriend for six years. I've gone from hating you, to enjoying your company to not being able to live without you. Everyday I wake up and I just think 'Merlin, she's with me!' And the thing is, I love you. I can't believe how long it took me to realise it because it just makes everything so simple."

Hermione pulls her knees up to her chest and rests her head on them, smiling up at him; Ron resumes his old spot, sitting cross-legged opposite her.

"I love you even though you can be a bit intense, borderline insane at some points and you can still be a bossy know it all." Hermione frowns and crinkles her nose at this. "But really," Ron continues, kneeling down and taking her hands in his, "I secretly love that you boss me around and call me crazy, but I think it's amazing that you know everything there is to know about everything, except maybe Quidditch. You keep me focused. You make me want to do more with my life, I want to be a better person and because I'm with you, I know I'm taking a step in the right direction. And I know that despite how lazy, rash and emotional I am – all of which leading to my earlier pathetic effort of a proposal - despite all of that, I know that you still love me."

She laughs gently, "Guilty."

"Good. And yeah, it was a terrible way to propose but come on, it's me, would I really be able to do it any other way?"

Hermione shakes her head.

"Exactly because once I get an idea or feeling through this big thick head of mine it's pretty hard to get rid of and sometimes I accidentally just –"

"Blurt it all out at the most inconvenient moment?"

"You could say that. The thing is, I've been thinking about it for ages and then I found the ring and after talking to George… I can't _stop _picturing us being engaged, getting married. I want more than anything for us to be together, forever." Ron clutches her hands more firmly, meeting her gaze with an intense stare. "And before you get all feminist on me it's not about me wanting you to be 'mine' it's about showing if off to everyone that you picked _me. _You could have had famous Harry Potter, some bloody Bulgarian Quidditch player or any other guy in the world really, but you stuck with Ron Weasley."

Tears are forming in Hermione's eyes, "Oh, Ron. Like I would pick anyone else."

He smiles at her, "That's what I like to think."

"Really? What else do you think?"

"I think that you love me and I _know _that I love you."

She scoffs before giving him a watery smile, "Tell me something I don't know."

"I know - and I _want _other people to know that it's you and me. I want us to be an official family, show everyone how ridiculously serious we are and I want to be able to call you my wife. I really want you to marry me. So, what do _you_ think?"

Carefully releasing his hands, Hermione moves her legs so they are crossed in front of her again. She reaches to her side where the little blue box is sitting, almost as if it's just been waiting for them to finish their discussion. Hermione picks the box up, her hands trembling slightly, and gives the box to Ron. "I think," she starts, her voice shaking like her hands, "I think you should ask me again."

Ron smiles as he takes the box from her. He rises to one knee, so that he's kneeling in front of Hermione and opens the box, using his hands to present it to her.

"Hermione," she sniffs deeply, "will you marry me?"

She nods tearfully, "Yes."

He slides the ring onto her finger before clasping his hand in hers and using his other hand to push a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

"I knew you would say yes," he whispers into her ear.

"Oh, shut up."

Both laugh before Hermione leans forward and kisses him, her still sitting cross-legged on the flat floor and him still on one knee in front of her. Ron can feel the corners of her lips tugging upwards into a smile. He pulls back and grins at her, "Hi, I'm your fiancé."

She laughs, "How very nice to meet you."

They grin at each other. Ron leans his forehead against hers and they sit on the floor of their flat, surrounded by broken china, their heads pressed together, staring down at their intertwined hands and the ring on Hermione's finger.

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><p><strong><em>Fluff, fluff and nothing but! I hope this was realistic and enjoyable to read :)<em>**


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